Teardrop
by Monisse
Summary: Crying would make it real. And she couldn't bare a reality where he didn't exist. - Spoilers for the finale. Short and sweet one shot about BB and why she didn't cry.


It's bothering me... like hell! Why didn't she cry because of his death, even fake or not. I think I know why. Want to know my insight about it?  
I hope you all like. It was really hard to portrait all the possible emotions she could be feeling by the season finale.  
Enjoy!! And you know, reviews are much loved!

**Rating:** K

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**Teardrop **

A partner. She had lost a partner. Nothing more, nothing less.

She had taught herself many, many times before falling asleep. An appealing little mantra to ease her thoughts into the night.  
She tried to deny what he, along the years, had become to her, but the truth was that he wasn't just someone in her life, he was _her partner_.

It hurts.

Her heart was tightly pressed in a forgotten box during the last few days. And neither she was in control of her rational functions.  
Her eyes were dry, as always, but her mind was unsettled.

"_My God…_ "

No, there is no god. At least there cannot be something worth of that title that would let Booth die…and even though inside she knew that there were hundreds of reasons, logical and rational ones, of why god cannot exist, this was the only one that mattered now.

Though she felt her inner self crumbling into pieces, it was a word that made her explode in rage.

It was in this moment that everything collapsed, that glimpse, that jump, the surge of anger, the desire to burst out all the emotions boiling inside of her, it all meltdown into a torrent of pure irrational fuel, powered by that exasperating nickname of hers, her heart sprung into overdrive. It was a rare occurrence but when it did happen, it burned with angered passion… for good and for bad.

He was left behind; curled on the floor after the full force that hit his face. She walked furiously ahead, never looking back. Never looking at the man, which seemed to have returned from beyond the grave to torment her thoughts once again.

He followed her all the way back to her safe environment, trying to reason with her. She found shelter in her office as always, but there was no way he would let her turn away from him without a fight.

After crossing the door, she turned abruptly in his direction, blocking the way inside.

He then took a moment to see her, really see her after so long.

She looked so tired. With faint dark circles around her eyes, which the fine make-up couldn't hide from him. She would look like a normal un-preoccupied woman, if it wasn't for the way her lips were pursed together in challenge and her jaw tightened. Only her eyes betrayed this portrait of anger.

"_What do you want Booth?_" She nearly screamed. Her voice lingering a note higher than normal. "_You already said your reasons for not telling me you were faking your own death. It's fine with me._"

Her indifference was having the best of him. Her words wrapped around his heart like his gloved hands were now wrapping themselves, unconsciously, around her shoulders.

He had only one question to ask.

"_Why didn't you cry Temperance?_" He paused for a moment, pulling her closer to take in her stunned face at the mention of her name, her first name. "_I thought…_"

Yes, he had thought. For the last few days he had enough time to think about the many things happening. He had enough time to think of her.

Right now he wanted to tell her how much he missed her. How much he struggled to hear her voice once again, to see her eyes again.  
The last memory of them were the one where those bright pools of ocean blue were clouded with fear and unshed tears.

Why hadn't she shed a tear for him?

He was expecting more. Maybe a hyperbolic display of affection and sorrow. Seeing her crying her eyes out, sinking to her knees in the damp green grass of the cemetery, screaming in agonizing sobs of his name and pulling her hair out.

But this was Temperance Brennan he was thinking about.

A woman that even though had a raging storm inside her heart, her exterior appeared calm and serene. One of the many benefits of compartmentalizing.

Despite the hurt of her seemingly unconcerned actions, he still wanted to know.  
He needed to know that the person that matters the most still cared about him. Even after his death. Fake or not.

She turned around letting her back face him; her shoulders were not upright like many times before, her head slightly bowed down.

She could not afford to collapse into pieces now, not when he was finally back and a strange relief had already washed over her tightened heart. But it still hurt, so deeply.

He would not accept her running away from him, once again. They needed to face it, together.  
His hand curled firmly around her slender wrist, pulling her back into his realm. The tight grasp turned her around and firmly against his broad chest. He kept her secure, enveloped in his strong arms.

They stood there, motionless. Their breaths mingling in the small space in between, as the time ticked by on the clock.

She had no other choice than to face his pleading question. It always amazed her, how he could tear apart all the walls in her heart with the simplest of things, either a word or a look, it never failed.

"_I did not cry._" She stated nonchalant in his direction with her eyes gazing into the depths of his brown ones, searching for comfort.

"_Because crying would make it real… and I couldn't bare a reality where you didn't exist._"

**The end**

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I really hoped you enjoyed! Any comments? Thank you!


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